


Superhero

by destielismylovesong



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, HS AU, High School AU, M/M, Virgin Castiel, sort of virgin castiel it's not really that important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:22:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielismylovesong/pseuds/destielismylovesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel turns around, slamming his locker door shut, and walks straight into Dean. He gapes at him. They don’t approach each other in school. They barely even make eye contact in school. And they certainly don’t show up to each other’s lockers with a rose in one hand, smiling shyly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Superhero

**Author's Note:**

> On [Tumblr](http://destielismylovesong.tumblr.com/post/53329799981/theyve-been-dating-for-two-months-now-two-months)

They’ve been dating for two months now. Two months of secrets. Secret kisses, secret gifts, secret moans, secret dates, secret fucks. Castiel is tired. He doesn’t know if he can handle it anymore- the teasing when he sits in the bleachers during Dean’s football practice, or the raised eyebrows and whispering about his “crush” every time he sneaks a peek at Dean in class. Maybe a better man would be able to handle a closeted relationship, but Castiel isn’t sure of himself anymore.

He’s determined to speak to Dean about it tonight, although he knows it’s probably going to end with his tears soaking the Avengers pillow that Dean had bought him a couple of weeks into their relationship, affectionately teasing him about his obsession with Iron Man.

It’s what had gotten them together in the first place. Castiel had overheard Dean arguing in the hallway with his teammates about Batman vs. Superman, and he’d stopped, intrigued, to listen. The others had displayed minimal knowledge about the superheroes based on the movies, but _D_ _ean_. Dean, sex god of truman high, captain of the football team- Dean was a  _nerd_.

A day later, Castiel, fighting his nerves every step of the way, had stopped by Dean’s locker, thanking every deity he could think of that, for once, Dean was alone and not surrounded by his entourage. Clearing his throat, Castiel had held out his prized, mint-condition Batman comic.

“I’m more of an Iron Man person myself,” he’d said quietly, “but Batman is pretty fucking awesome too.”

He should’ve known, even then. The way Dean had looked at him- his eyes sweeping over his face, then doing a slow once-over of his entire body that would’ve had Castiel blushing if he’d been paying any sort of attention- was not the way a straight boy looked at another person of the same sex.

“Don’t worry,” he’d said quickly, too nervous about being teased or bullied by the approaching jocks to notice the way Dean was looking at him with a quiet intensity. “I won’t tell anyone that you’re a first class comic geek.” And he’d hurried away before Dean could say anything, almost walking into an open classroom door as he mentally kicked himself for not telling Dean that he expected the comic book back in perfect condition.

The next day, he’d found an Iron Man comic in his locker. He didn’t know how Dean had gotten it in there, but he didn’t care and he didn’t question it. He’d been looking for this issue for years, and he held it in his hands carefully as he walked home, staring at it in awe. When Dean had texted him that night, saying that Batman would beat the shit out of Iron Man if they were pitted against each other in a fight, Castiel didn’t need to ask who it was. And again, he hadn’t questioned it, even as he’d wondered how Dean had gotten his number.

The one thing he  _had_  questioned was Dean’s sanity when, a week or so after the texting had begun, the other boy had asked him if he wanted to go to a comic book store opening.

“Um, Dean?” he’d texted back. “People will see you hanging out with me.”

“It’s in the city,” Dean had responded. “No one will know.”

Castiel had stared at his phone, wondering if the punch Dean’s words had delivered to his gut could cause internal hemorrhaging. But yet again, he’d put his feelings aside and hadn’t questioned it.

That Saturday, when they’d left the comic book store with their hands full and hearts light with laughter, Dean had paused by the alley near the store, cocking his head and staring at Castiel, his green eyes darkening as the silence lengthened. Castiel had stared back, confused, wondering what was going through Dean’s mind.

“You know what, fuck it,” Dean had murmured finally. With that, he’d gently pushed Castiel back until he’d hit the alley wall.

“Dean,” he’d said, shocked, mouth dry, palms tingling, comics forgotten. “What-“

It had been as if Dean had known that it was his first kiss. His lips were gentle, moving over Castiel’s slowly, curving upward in a smile when the bags dropped out of Castiel’s hands. He’d taken Castiel’s hands in his, intertwining their fingers one by one as the kiss deepened, his tongue sweeping over Castiel’s lips questioningly, asking if he wanted more.

Castiel had responded in the affirmative, parting his lips and moaning involuntarily when Dean’s tongue had entered. Dean had bucked up against him at the moan, and Castiel could feel his erection pressing against his own through their jeans. He'd tightened his fingers around Dean’s, and they’d stood there, kissing for a good five minutes without coming up for air before Dean had pulled away with a groan, dropping his forehead against Castiel’s.

“We’re going to get arrested,” he’d huffed with a smile small, and Castiel had laughed, a small, disbelieving laugh at his current situation. Pressed up against a wall by Dean Winchester, fingers intertwined with Dean Winchester’s, the taste of Dean Winchester in his mouth.

It had been then that Dean had disentangled one hand from his, cupping his neck and pulling him up for one more kiss, slow and thorough. His fingers had toyed with the hair at Castiel’s nape, thumb and index finger spreading to rub behind Castiel’s ears. Castiel’s hand had fisted in Dean’s leather jacket and he’d choked back a cry, still half-aware that they were in public.

“Well,” Dean had murmured teasingly, “someone’s got a serious erogenous zone. Gonna make a note of that.” He’d leaned down to lick at Castiel’s earlobe, tugging lightly, and Castiel had gasped, both hands now clenching Dean’s jacket. Dean had done it again, teeth scraping along the outline of Castiel’s ear before moving back to catch Castiel’s cry in his mouth, kissing him soothingly before pulling away.

Castiel, eyes glazed, had looked up at him, and Dean had hesitated, opening his mouth to say something and then thinking better of it.

“What is it?” Castiel had asked. “Is something wrong? Did I-“

“No, no,” Dean had assured him swiftly. He’d hesitated again, then said quietly, “This isn’t just about sex, Cas.”

For a moment, Castiel hadn’t known which to respond to- the nickname or the statement. But the fleeting vulnerability in Dean’s eyes had made his choice clear.

He’d reached up and wrapped his arms around Dean in a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek shyly. “No, it’s not,” he’d agreed, and felt the tension drain from Dean’s body as he hugged him back.

He hadn’t questioned Dean’s vulnerability, just as he hasn’t questioned anything in the last two months. But it’s too difficult, he thinks to himself now. He doesn’t want to hide anymore. He’d hidden for so long, for sixteen years of his life, and going back into the closet for a relationship was a step backwards.

He turns around, slamming his locker door shut, and walks straight into Dean. He gapes at him. They don’t approach each other in school. They barely even make eye contact in school. And they certainly don’t show up to each other’s lockers with a rose in one hand, smiling shyly.

“Happy anniversary,” Dean says quietly, stepping into Castiel’s personal space. Castiel backs up into his locker and Dean follows, smiling knowingly at Castiel’s confusion. He sticks the flower in between the buttons of Castiel’s shirt and reaches down, cupping his jaw in one hand and wrapping his other arm around Castiel’s waist.

Pulling him in, Dean kisses him, long and deep and hard. Hot and passionate and  _fuck_  if this was anything but a public display, a claiming, a statement that says,  _we’re together, he’s mine, so **fuck the fuck off**_.

Castiel forgets his surprise the second Dean’s lips touch his. Which isn’t shocking- he usually forgets everything the moment Dean touches him. His surroundings, his own name, the process of inhaling and exhaling. He kisses Dean back just as hard, just as hot, their tongues spelling out their passion in desperate thrusts. Somehow, Castiel’s arms end up around Dean’s neck; when their lips separate, Dean grins at his body’s refusal to let him go as Castiel holds on.

Castiel keeps his eyes on Dean’s, all too aware of the silence that had fallen around them in the packed hallway. Dean only smiles reassuringly, and before Castiel could open his mouth to say something, a catcall sounds out.

“You go, Winchester!” It’s Jake, one of Dean’s teammates, calling out from the other end of the hallway. Another catcall sounds out, origins unknown, as a few others echo the sound and the noise level rises again. Dean flushes, knowing that some of his friends are still watching as he leans down to press his lips to his boyfriend’s.

“Happy anniversary, Cas,” he whispers. “I love you.”

Castiel pulls back, refusing to admit to the unspilled tears in his eyes. But dean can see, and he raises his lips, pressing a kiss to each of castiel’s brows and resting his forehead on his.

“I love you, too,” Castiel whispers and tightens his hold around him.

✿✿✿✿✿

“Didn’t you ever question it?” Dean asks him later in the evening, his lips pressing into Castiel’s hair. They’ve been lying here for hours now- school had ended and Dean had led Castiel to his car, kissing him gently and promising him a surprise. When they’d reached the secluded cliff and Dean had parked his Impala, Castiel had raised an eyebrow at him, but hadn’t said a word as Dean spread out a white and red checkered blanket on the grass. He’d reached in to the trunk of his baby and Castiel’s mouth had dropped open when Dean had pulled out a huge basket.

“A picnic?” he’d practically squeaked. “You planned us an anniversary picnic?” Dean had grinned and pulled him down to the blanket with him. In between long kisses and sweet sighs, they’d fed each other bites of mac and cheese (“Your favorite,” Dean had pointed out smugly), sliders (“My favorite,” Dean had said just as smugly) and pecan pie (“It’s pie, Cas,  _pie_ ”).

“Question what?” Castiel murmurs in response. He’s lying on top of Dean, his ear pressed to his chest, listening to the  _thump thump_  of his heart. His hand is at Dean’s neck, his thumb dipping into the hollow of his throat and trailing back up to his ear in a steady pattern. His left hand is in Dean’s right, stretched out on the blanket, fingers intertwined. Dean swipes his thumb across Castiel’s wrist every so often, and Castiel’s hold on his hand tightens in response. He lifts his head, resting his chin on Dean’s chest, and looks down at him drowsily.

“Question what?” he repeats, and Dean smiles.

“I had your phone number, Cas,” he replies, reaching up to run his hand through Castiel’s hair. “I gave you one of my comic books. I had your locker combination. I  _told_ you it wasn’t about sex from the beginning.”

Castiel stills, staring down at Dean with his mouth half-open. “You-” Dean’s smile widens at Castiel’s loss for words.

“You idiot,” he says affectionately, “I’ve been half in love with you since you came out.”

“Why-” Castiel can’t finish his sentence. Dean pulls him down and upward, his lips touching his gently in a reminder of their first kiss.

“I didn’t tell you because I was scared,” he confesses, bumping his nose against Castiel’s, kissing him lightly again. “I think I had feelings for you before- even before- I’m sorry it took- it took me so long, Cas, to  _be_  with you like- the way I was today. I-” He stumbles over his words, ducking his head in embarrassment, but Castiel tips his chin up and kisses him hard, reassuring him.

“Don’t,” Castiel whispers fiercely. “Don’t. Please don’t.”

“I didn’t know what was happening at first,” Dean says, his eyes earnest. “I didn’t understand. And then you came out. Publicly. And I understood what I was feeling, but again, I was scared. Still. Until you came up to me that day, and I said, well-“

“You said ‘fuck it,’” Castiel says tenderly, resting his forehead against Dean’s, their lips barely touching as they both inhale the scent of strawberries.

“Fuck it,” Dean agrees, and Castiel smiles, resting his hand on Dean’s heart.

_Thump thump._


End file.
